


『 dawn 』komaeda-kun

by ikmkr



Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [7]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: #kamukomawinterweek2019, Alcohol, Angst and Tragedy, Established Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lowercase, M/M, i am sorry for breaking prompt i do not know what ghibli is, kamukomawinterweek2019, there are no happy ends, this does not have a happy end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:54:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21889474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikmkr/pseuds/ikmkr
Summary: prompt seven: ghibli aueverything comes to an end sometimes
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574095
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	『 dawn 』komaeda-kun

**Author's Note:**

> for kamukoma winter week 
> 
> sorry i don’t know what ghibli is

it is so cold. it is so very cold.

you try to think of how you got into this scenario. desperately. the details are fuzzy and so is your eyesight. you recall a bar, an angel, and a date you had planned, and it all comes tumbling back to you; the way you had done up your wine-red peacoat, slipped on your earmuffs, scarf and gloves, how you thought this would just be a short walk, and you and your lover dearest had walked through the blustery cold streets in the night to the bar.

the atmosphere was cheerful. lights danced in his eyes as he got some drink, something festive, alcoholic; you finally gave in and you whispered something in his ear and squeezed his upper arm and he snaked an arm behind your back in reassurance. you got what he ordered. it would be the first time alcohol touched your tongue, and also the last.

it was a red drink, and was served in a martini glass. cherry bourbon seemed to be the word. they sugared the rim of the glass and snuck two cherries and a candy cane in the glass as well. you chugged it like a shot, and it went down your throat burning, a little sour but other than that a somewhat pleasant taste. for a while, it did not set in, and you were gay and merry and you were laughing with him and hanging off his shoulder at his every word as he charmed the people around him with his smiles, like a handsome devil.

and then it hit you. you quickly found out what “lightweight” meant and you figured either what you drank was strong or the word applied to you because you felt silly and sleepy and hazy and you hated it. you tapped him on the shoulder. he looked at you and you figured he knew what you wanted because he guided you out of the building and you both stood right outside the door, looking at the big tree in the city square that was done in lights and ornaments, slightly obscured by drifting powder snow. 

this was pure romance. he caught some snow on his tongue stained ruby red by alcohol and you gave him a daisy chuckle, movements slurred and slow. you laughed and talked with him like normal people do, your inhibitions lost, your self-control waning. you told him all the things you wanted. you told him how beautiful he was with the light shining off his hair. you told him of your dreams and secret desires. you’d love to adopt a dog or raise a child. you regretted chiaki’s death. you thought nekomaru was hot. he agreed at that and you both laughed. you wondered if this is what being human felt like. you felt alive.

and you parted ways. it slipped your drunken mind that you lived in the same house.

here you are now, hours later, still lost. you can no longer feel your heartbeat in your breaths as you used to. your fingers and toes went numb a while ago. everything looks the same. the snow is not helping. you feel like a slow marble creature; everything is slow, hazy, bright; you swear you can hear a train in the distance.

you trudge on anyways. there is something bright in the distance and you figure it is the tree in the center of town. your mind drifts back to him. him, who you spent so much time with; him, who you gave over a decade to. four years running around the country like madmen. two years recovering on that island. and all this time here, in this sleepy little town, making quiet lives and moving on from the tragedy you were born into; the tragedy you birthed. him who you wed under the marquee in the summer. him who you moved into that house on the end of the cul-du-sac with. him who rubbed your shoulders in the evenings and laughed with you and cried with you and held you and kept you safe and warm. you wonder if he made it back inside. you wonder if he is worried about you.

you feel a frog in your throat and a terrified, shrill little laugh tears itself out of your voicebox. it hurts when it comes. you feel wetness on your face that becomes very cold very quickly and you realize the tears have frozen on your face. you scrabble at your cheeks with your numb fingers and knock them away. you do not want to die. for the first time, you think you might.

you cannot feel your heartbeat anymore. you are afraid, but you cannot feel it.

the first light of dawn is sneaking over the horizon. the bell tower chimes five. in the light of the sun, that hazy, wintery light that encompasses you like a warm blanket, you swear you can see him. you reach out your hand for him. you want him to take it. 

please, komaeda-kun. you whisper it painfully. please carry me home.

you walk towards him and trip. the train horn is agonizingly loud now. it’s funny. there aren’t any train tracks in front of you.

* * *

_through the window you can see a porch. peering past the rocking chair into the yard, it doesn’t occur to you to question how you got there._

**Author's Note:**

> i’ll be home for christmas;  
> you can count on me.


End file.
